


she wants more

by diana_hawthorne (stsgirlie)



Category: Cracks (2009)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 13:45:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5336264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stsgirlie/pseuds/diana_hawthorne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, at night when the rest of the girls are asleep, they practise kissing – sitting cross-legged on Poppy’s bed, their hands tangled nervously in each other’s hair, their lips meeting each other’s with a tender clumsiness that means the world to Poppy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	she wants more

She sees the way Di looks at her, hears the way her breath quickens and feels her heart beat faster when she sees her. She knows that Di lives for the moments when she can be alone with Miss G, knows that when Miss G speaks Di hangs onto every word, memorising.

When they are alone together, by the graves, Di lays back on the cool stone and stares at the sky above, telling her about what Miss G said to her, what Miss G was wearing, what books she has given her to read. She quotes lines from her idol, her voice taking on a peculiar softness when she speaks, almost caressing the precious words meted out, drop by drop, to have the maximum effect.

When her heels sound on the stone floors of the chapel, Di’s ears, so attuned to every movement Miss G makes, pick up on them first, and her head turns toward her and away from the hymnal. She mouths nonsense words as their teacher glides past, and Poppy just wants to throw down the hymnal and scream. It is not fair.

What makes it worse is when Miss G comes into their dormitory at night. Poppy always knows when she is there – the beds are so close together and besides, Miss G never bothers to close the door after her, and golden light streams into the room, falling in a puddle at the foot of her bed. She sees her sit down on Di’s bed, which groans beneath the weight of both of them, sees her touch her cheek with a single crimson-taloned hand. She hears them whisper, though she cannot always make out the words.

She sleeps across the room from Di, and on nights that Miss G does not come in they lay in Poppy’s bed together, arms around waists and head pressed against each other, whispering secrets and desires and plans once they finally escape the school. She can feel Di then, feel every movement and every breath she takes.

Sometimes, at night when the rest of the girls are asleep, they practise kissing – sitting cross-legged on Poppy’s bed, their hands tangled nervously in each other’s hair, their lips meeting each other’s with a tender clumsiness that means the world to Poppy. But they never speak of it to each other in the daylight – this is something that is confined to the night, with the only light being that of the pale silver moon shining down on them.

She wants more, but she will never get it.


End file.
